


Iracebeth One Shots/Drabbles

by Itica_writes



Category: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itica_writes/pseuds/Itica_writes
Summary: A collection of things I write for Iracebeth. Chapters titled with dialogue prompts are less than 400 words.
Relationships: Iracebeth of Crims/Reader
Kudos: 4





	Iracebeth One Shots/Drabbles

You were sitting on the bed in Iracebeth’s chambers, watching her as you idly doodled on a scrap of paper you had found. She was sitting in front of the vanity, gazing into the mirror as her new hatter, a young man with wispy blonde hair and an abnormally large nose, put the hats he had crafted on her head. Or rather, tried to. None of them seemed to fit quite right. You noticed that with each hat he had to toss away, his movements became a bit more jolting and frantic, sensing as well as seeing the queen’s rising anger. 

“What is the meaning of this?” She barked.

The hatter jumped with fright, the hat he had been holding flying out of his hand. She rolled her eyes as he scrambled to pick it up.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” He said hurriedly.

“Why do none of these fit me? You’re my hatter, you ought to make hats that fit my head.” Her cheeks were beginning to flush a light pink.

“Racie.” You said quietly. She ignored you. Meanwhile, the poor hatter was fumbling over his words.

“My most sincerest apologies, Your Majesty. It’s just that- well you see, your head-” He stopped talking immediately, realizing his grave mistake as Iracebeth glared daggers at him. The room was dangerously quiet.

“What about my head?” Uncharacteristically, her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the livid undertones of her voice.

The hatter didn’t utter a word, fearful of the repercussions it could bring. He glanced at you, a silent plea. You sighed.

“Racie.” You said again.

“How dare you… ” She said to him. “How dare you disrespect your queen! I ought to have you thrown in the dungeon! I ought to have you beheaded!” With each sentence her voice grew louder, and angrier.

“Iracebeth!”

She whipped around to glare at you, her face red enough to rival that of her dress.

“Can we please talk about this?” You pleaded.

Her expression morphed into one of indifference as she turned back to look at the mirror.

“Leave us.” She demanded. The hatter didn’t need to be told twice, and rushed out the door. Now alone, you sighed, walking up behind her and placing your hands on her shoulders.

People often wondered why the two of you were together. Of course, no one ever said anything to you directly, but you heard the whispers. Mutterings of how you could possibly withstand the rage of ‘The Bloody Big Head’. Some suspected blackmail. Many were just happy you were there to level her out a bit. To 'put a cap on her insanity’. It saddened you to hear such things said of her, but you understood that they were not completely without reason. The truth was, you were remarkably good at calming her down. You had worked your way beneath the ever infuriated surface and seen the woman underneath. And the truth was, she was wonderful. But nobody else ever saw the underneath. She never gave them the chance.

You dug your fingers into her shoulders slightly, massaging them.

“Racie.” You began softly. “ You can’t lose your temper like this every time you get upset. ”

“He insulted me!” She squawked. “He hates me. Why do they all hate me and love my sister? Little Miss Goodie Goodie. Little Miss Perfect. They don’t see the real her.”

“Well you don’t exactly let them see the real you, either.” You said gently.

“They don’t give me a chance! All they see is… this.” She spat out the last word, gesturing to her head. “Oh look, it’s The Bloody Big Head, Mirana’s wretched sister.” Her voice cracked, and in the mirror you could see tears welling in her eyes.

“I just want to be loved like her.” She said in a hoarse whisper.

Her face fell like shattering glass, and you were around the chair in an instant, wrapping her in a hug. Feeling her heart beat pressed against yours, you murmured words of comfort as she sobbed. She was stiff in your arms, but allowed her head to rest on your shoulder as she fell apart.

“They don’t understand what it’s like.” She said into your neck.

“No, they don’t. They can’t possibly. But it’s not fair for you to hold it against them. You have to hold your head high, and show them who you really are.” You leaned back from her, cupping her chin to look into her eyes. Her face was stained with tears, make up smudged and running. “Your sister may have the adoration of the crowds, Iracebeth, but you have my heart.”

She managed a watery smile. “Thank you.”


End file.
